


Only Mine and Yours (Beauty in Reversals)

by ParallelSkies



Series: Even If It's a Different Space [6]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Crossposted on AFF, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Infidelity, It's Super Late, Last installment of this trash series, M/M, Post-Divorce, Romance, Smut, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, bottom!Yuta, top!Taeyong, y'all ready?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-02-26 14:05:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13237293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParallelSkies/pseuds/ParallelSkies
Summary: There's no love without tears, no happiness without sacrifice, and no forever without goodbye.





	1. Feigning Unaffectedness

**Author's Note:**

> I think we're all hurting right now and struggling with many things going on in our real lives. There are things I regret, want to apologize for, etc., but let's just keep trying to move forward at our own pace, okay? :)

Yuta never expected to find himself modeling again, but there he was, sulking in a foldable makeup chair and glaring daggers at nothing in particular while a makeup artist adds finishing touches to his cut crease smokey eye.

The thought of his impending comeback, even if just for a one-day special shoot, has the Japanese man freaking out internally. He sighs deeply and shifts a bit in his seat. The satin crop top he’s wearing does little to cover the leather band fixed sensually around his delicate waist; the ribbon collar around his neck isn’t exactly comforting, either.

The fifteenth anniversary of ESteem is just around the corner, and the agency wants to celebrate the grand milestone by creating a special thank you catalog. Unfortunately, Yuta’s not feeling _thankful_ at all. All currently signed past, present, and future models are to participate in it, no exceptions. That is, unless they want to face the notoriously hellish wrath of the business’s executives and potentially lose their jobs.

Yuta has a love-hate relationship with working in the stressful but luxurious fashion industry. He definitely wants to pursue other interests in the future, but he doesn’t want to give up fashion entirelyー he enjoys mentoring aspiring models, not to mention it pays his bills and allows him to travel. ESteem’s been somewhat _cold_ towards him ever since he decided not to re-sign as a model, though, so the Japanese man thinks it wise to not aggravate the already thin ice between them by refusing to participate.

“Yuta-yah, you’re thinking so loud I can _hear_ your thoughts. Keep it down!” Timoteo, another unfortunate soul, calls from the makeup chair beside his. Yuta peeks at him in the mirror; the other man’s burgundy-rimmed eyes twinkle with warmth and humor. “I’m sure none of us oldies want to be here. Just look at poor Sehunnie over there!” he whisper-shouts dramatically.

He motions with his head to their fellow model-turned-manager and longtime acquaintance sitting a few seats down, and the younger briefly looks in that direction. As always, Sehun’s wearing his signature poker face; he seems absolutely bored out of his goddamn mind as a makeup artist contours his already perfectly chiseled face. “Oh, please, Moonkyu-hyung!” The younger turns his attention back to his chuckling Korean colleague. “Sehun-hyung almost always looks passive like that.”

“Maybe,” Timoteo shrugs, “but I’m sure he’ll be more _expressive_  tonight since his husband’s finally coming back from China.”

“Yeah.” A tiny smile graces Yuta’s face at the thought of the happy married couple. He goes quiet then, losing himself in his thoughts as the other man continues to ramble on about something else.

Sehun and Lu Han had never been good at keeping their relationship under wrapsー they had dropped the marriage bomb on Asia not even a year after the former’s debut, if he remembers correctly. The then up-and-coming Korean model and well-established Chinese entertainer had faced so much hatred and hardship after the admission, from newsworthy anti-fan drama to death threats. But their unshakeable perseverance and dedication throughout the years were what eventually made them one of Asia’s most beloved, respected celebrity couples.

Yuta knows for a fact that he and Taeyong couldn’t have accomplished what Sehun and Lu Han had. True, they’d never even tried, but _still_ , there had been too much on the line. Unlike the other couple, they hadn’t had _loving families_ , _a lot of friends_ , and _obscene amounts of money_ to fall back on.

He respects Sehun and Lu Han immensely and would never discredit themー they had defied the odds and conquered so much togetherー but to this day, an infinitesimal, irrational part of him still _envies_ the older couple’s all-around good fortune.

He wishes he’d had a fraction of their luck.

It’s an unspoken truth that the only reason his ex-husband had been able to secure a position at the prestigious SM Culture & Contents over hundreds of others who were wealthier and more qualified was because of his heartbreakingly gorgeous face. It’s also an unspoken truth that the only reason he himself had been able to secure a position at the equally prestigious ESteem Models over hundreds of more attractive, unique people was because of his “exoticism” as a Japanese beauty outstandingly well-versed in Korean culture.

God knows what would’ve happened had they gone publicー Yuta doesn’t care much to think about what would’ve happened to _him_ , but Taeyong probably would’ve been booted from the cutthroat corporate world, and the thought of his then lover’s dreams getting crushed would’ve crushed him irreparably.

The Japanese man suddenly blinks as if coming out of a daze. He wonders why he’s obsessing over his long-gone married young adult life all of a sudden.

_Marriage..._ Yuta’s mind goes off on a tangent again. Will he ever settle down again someday? It’s not a _necessity_ , but it’d be _nice_ , perhaps. The second time around would likely present less difficulties. After all, he’s more mature now. He’s learned from his mistakes, knows how to better communicate his feelings, and doesn’t have to be afraid of society’s perception of him anymore because he’s just a regular person again.

_(Right?)_

Yes, giving marriage a second chance _(eventually)_ sounds nice, indeed, he concludes, albeit a bit distantly. _To love and be loved, to share everything..._ He wouldn’t mind sharing his everything withー

“Hey, am I boring you that much, or are you just having a blond moment?” Timoteo interrupts his thoughts, a mock put-out expression on his face.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that my hair’s a _faded honey brown_ , not _blond_.” Strange thoughts completely out of mind now, Yuta receives the elder’s question comically, drumming his fingers against the thin arm of his chair. He stifles a yawn. “And no, you’re never boring. Sorry, I’m just sleepy. I had to wake up really early to take the train from Busan, so...”

The Korean man nods understandingly. “Oh, I see. I took a morning train, too. I was staying with Taeminnie at a friend’s place in Daegu. Not as far as Busan, obviously, but still kind of far.”

“I don’t know what you did in a past life, but you’re so lucky to be engaged to such a perfect man, Moonkyu-hyung. I saw him on a billboard on my way here earlier. Excuse my language, but he looked _really fucking hot_ with platinum hair and corset piercings,” Yuta giggles casually, and the change in topic lightens up the atmosphere.

“I know, right?” Timoteo moans, slumping in his seat. _“Fuck...”_

“You’ll invite me to your top secret American wedding, won’t you, hyung?” the younger questions hopefully, peering at his companion with sparkly eyes.

“How could I say no to your adorable, girly face?” the other man shoots back with a teasing but friendly grin.

The Japanese man narrows his eyes judgmentally. “Excuse you. _I’m not adorable, nor am I girly. I’m a handsome manly man._ Get it right, you dumb potato head,” he sulks childishly.

_“Watch your language, boy!”_ Timoteo snaps.

 

 

“I’ll see you on Monday, Jungwoo. Thank you for your hard work today,” Taeyong murmurs distantly as he finishes creating another chart on a spreadsheet. He looks up from computer for a fraction of a second to nod dismissively at his assistant, but the other man stays rooted to his spot by the door. “Is something wrong?”

“Hyung, you look _awful_ ,” Jungwoo states bluntly, concerned eyes sweeping over the vice president’s pale, hunched over form. ”You look like death personified. Are you sure you’re over that cold you had?”

The elder gazes back at his assistant unsteadily, not really registering his words. “I’m sorry?” He tilts his head, a confused frown on his face.

“Go. Home. Please,” the younger punctuates, exasperated, “and rest up. You still have the weekend to finish that presentation on travel networkingー”

_“Yes, yes,”_ Taeyong mutters distractedly as he quadruple-checks the presentation slides. Satisfied with his work, he saves everything before powering down his computer with a weary but accomplished half-smirk. “I’ll be sure to relax this weekend. Thankfully I won’t have to worry about preparing the presentation anymore. I just finished it.”

“That’s... _good_ , hyung. Your diligence is as admirable as ever...” Jungwoo moves to open the door, turning back one more time to regard the other man. “Hey, I know I told you already, but I’m glad you’re letting yourself take the weekend off for once. You _seriously_ deserve a break. See you on Monday.”

With that, the younger leaves the office with a respectful bow of his head, leaving his fellow businessman alone in the dimly-lit, spacious room. _“Goodnight,”_ Taeyong whispers belatedly before spinning his chair around.

Checking his watch for the first time in a while, he blinks his heavy eyelids in surprise. “Not even half past ten? I haven’t finished this early in a long time,” he muses to himself. “Interesting...”

Aside from a previously debilitating cold, it’s been a good week for Taeyong. Work’s been great, with all meetings and projects he’d supervised having proceeded successfully. Jaehyun’s been as sweet to him as ever, too; although he didn’t see his boyfriend in person at all during the week, the younger had texted him a few cool recipes to try at home and video called here and there to make up for their time spent apart.

And now he has a weekend off to look forward to. He won’t have any unfinished work looming over him, and he can see his friends, his boyfriend, _and..._

The Korean man runs a hand carelessly through his silver hair, thoroughly destroying its immaculate slicked back style. He folds his hands, leans back a bit in his swivel chair, and takes a second to simply relax after a day of hard work.

He admires the nighttime Seoul cityscape with its thousands of colorful, glittering lights from the window for a long moment.

His work has brought him to a multitude of breathtaking places around the world, but Seoul will always be the most beautiful to him.

Because it’s _home_ , the setting of his life story.

An unexpected buzzing shatters the short-lived period of serenity, causing Taeyong to sigh in mild disgruntlement. He blindly reaches back to grab his phone from his desk. When he unlocks his phone, a text message notification greets him. It’s a cute goodnight text from Jaehyun, which makes his pout turn into a smile. He appreciates his boyfriend’s endearing nature, and he texts him a simple smiley face in return before pocketing the device.

Another unexpected buzz erupts from the businessman’s back pocket just as he enters the parking lot five minutes later. He stops for a second, brows furrowing in confusion when the buzzing goes on longer than anticipated. “A _call_?”

Taeyong’s _surprised_ , to say the least, to see Johnny’s name and picture flashing on his phone screen. Curious, he accepts the call. “Hello? Hyung?” he starts unsurely as he makes his way to his car.

“Hi, Taeyong. I know this is sudden, but are you free right now? Do you want to have a late dinner at the usual barbecue restaurant? Iー well, the entire gang’s meeting there at eleven or so...” the elder stutters out, which shocks Taeyong greatly because it’s simply _not_ like his American friend to sound _unconfident_.

“ _Oh..._ I mean, I’m a little weary right now, but I guess I don’t mind. I haven’t eaten yet...” the man trails off awkwardly. There’s a long pause on Johnny’s end, and Taeyong uses this welcome break in conversation to get into his car and get everything situated. He glances fleetingly at the picture holder dangling from his rear view mirror. “Hey, Johnny-hyung? Is everything okay? Is there a special occasion I’m forgetting, orー”

“No, no! Just... just check the screenshot I’m sending you,” the American man interrupts insistently.

 

**To: Chicago Monster (°w°)**   
**From: ~Takoyaki Prince!~**   
**[10:28 PM] Hey, you awake? I know this is sudden, but... do you maybe want to have a late dinner together? I’m actually here in Seoul right now, and I wanted to check out that one barbecue place we used to go to a lot. It’s kind of weird to eat that sort of thing alone, though... σ(^_^;)**

 

**To: Takoyaki Prince!~**   
**From: Chicago Monster (°w°)**   
**[10:29 PM] Hi, bro! I’ve been up just watching TV, as usual, but more importantly... YOU’RE IN SEOUL?! :O**   
**Why, this calls for some long overdue catching up! I’ll wake my husband and call up the others to see if they want to join in, too... but only if you’re okay with that, of course!**   
**It’s been forever, though, and I’m certain they‘d be more than happy to get up if it meant seeing you...**

 

**To: Chicago Monster (°w°)**   
**From: ~Takoyaki Prince!~**   
**[10:32 PM] Oh... yeah, of course! I’m really anxious to meet everyone again face-to-face, honestly, but it’d be stupid of me to waste this chance. Besides, the more the merrier, right? ^^”**   
**Let’s meet soon, like around eleven! I’m seriously starving! ㅋㅋㅋㅋ**

 

Taeyong stares at the texts, at a loss for words initially.

Yuta’s _here_?

Why didn’t he tell him? It’s an unspoken rule that he’s supposed to tell him these kinds of things, is it not?

At first, the Korean man feels _irritated_.

Then he remembers how things went during their last rendezvous, how they’d had their _long overdue heart-to-heart_ , and his mood sobers considerably.

_They’d said a lot of game-changing things that night..._

“...Taeyong, are you still there?” He can only utter a low noise of confirmation. Johnny continues, “I went on to ask him what he was in Seoul for, but he just said something vague about ESteem business. _Anyway_ , I let the rest of the gang know, and they’re all rushing to get ready now. Do you want toー”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to extend his invitation to _me_?” Taeyong cuts in, careful to keep his tone neutral. He wants to go to the little get togetherー he’d never pass up the opportunity to see Yutaー but it might not be the best idea. “I’m not sure if he and I shouldー”

“Yuta said “everyone”, didn’t he? If he didn’t want you to come, he would’ve explicitly said something. You know he’s the type,” the other man counters matter-of-factly. “Won’t you come, Taeyong? It’s been like a year and a half, and it’s just a friendly outing. You guys were best friends once upon a time...”

The businessman chuckles dryly at the words. Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, he and his ex-husband have been rather _friendly_ behind closed doors for quite some time now. Unconventional activities aside, they watch TV and share meals and chitchat...

“Look, I don’t mean to force you. You don’t have to come if you don’t feel comfortable, Taeyong,” Johnny rushes to tell his friend after realizing how pushy he was being. “And if you don’t think you can play it cool tonight, anyway, then maybe it’d be best for you to notー”

“I’ll head to the restaurant now, hyung. There’s really no need to worry,” the businessman breaks in sharply. “As if I could _ever_ be mean to Yuta. See you.”

Then Taeyong hangs up, shifts into drive, and speedily disappears into the night.

 

 

As he waits to cross at the last intersection, Yuta feels a spark of uneasiness travel up his spine. He can vaguely spot them from where he’s standing, gathering in front of the restaurant straight ahead.

His _friends_.

Squinting, he makes out Johnny’s giant form first and figures that the shorter person hanging on his arm must be Ten, who he met once before. They’re making conversation with four other people, two dark-haired women sitting on a bench and two men holding hands. Seulgi, Irene, Kun, Winwin...

The walk signal flashes on, but the Japanese man freezes as a familiar couple passes him briskly without a second glance.

Tall and svelte as ever, Jongin and Krystal cross the street with poised, purposeful strides towards the restaurant. Snapping out of his short stupor, Yuta bites his lip and follows after them with much slower, less confident steps.

Before he knows it, he’s standing just a few meters away from the large group. No one’s noticed him yetー everyone seems to be caught up in socializingー so Yuta uses this momentary reprieve to give himself a mini pep talk.

_I’ve got this._

_I’m truly fine._

_It’s going to be a good night._

“Guys!” he calls out with as much brightness as he can muster, removing his baseball cap and mask. He takes a couple of shaky steps forward. “I’m here!”

_“Yuta!”_ In a heartbeat, everyone’s crowded around him, eager to make up for lost time.

And as he’s smothered with pecks and hugs and dragged into multiple conversations at once, Yuta feels a great invisible weight lift off his shoulders.

He smiles _beautifully_.

 

 

Taeyong curses under his breath as he stumbles into the barbecue restaurant several minutes later than he would’ve liked. He forgot how difficult it was to find good parking on a Friday night.

He reckons that his friends are already here and sitting at their usual table in a private room, so the Korean wastes no time in heading over.

With butterflies in his stomach, Taeyong takes a deep breath and slides the door open.

"Well, look who decided to finally show up." Jongin’s loud, playful remark quickly catches the attention of their other friends, who look away from their phones, soju, banchan, and/or partners to regard the late arrival.

The room erupts in greetings, yet Taeyong ends up returning them more half-heartedly than usual. “Sorry I’m late. I forgot how hard it’d be to find parking at such a time...” he trails off distractedly as he ambles to his usual seat.

“Well, Seoul’s nightlife is crazy,” Kun reasons.

“That’s why we didn’t drive,” Johnny snorts.

“Same,” Krystal chimes in.

Taeyong doesn’t reply. His intense gaze is fixed solely on the fair-haired beauty seated at the far end of the table.

And oddly enough, Yuta’s gazing back at him with just as much intensity.

_Flaxen hair, sparkling doe eyes, milky skin, petal lips wet with soju..._ The Korean man would’ve allowed his ex-husband’s ethereal beauty to steal his breath away had they been alone, but they both have appearances to uphold.

The room gradually falls silent, but neither of the men pays the change much attention. They’re much too engrossed with their unintentional but _shameless_ staring contest.

The invisible, electric tension in the atmosphere intensifies as Taeyong finally makes his way to Yuta’s side. He knows that they must make quite the sight. Why, their friends are most likely watching them out of the corners of their eyes, anxious to gauge their interaction.

As far as they know, this is the first time he and Yuta have seen each other in approximately a year and a half.

_Oh, how little they knew..._

“Long time no see, Taeyong.” The Japanese man breaks the ice first with his hushed greeting. He smiles faintly up at the businessman. “Have you been... well?”

“I’ve been well, thanks...” The elder leans down to place a chaste, fleeting peck on the other man’s cheek. “And you? Blond looks good on you, by the way...” he whispers politely.

“Not _blond_. _Faded honey brown_ ,” Yuta corrects, sounding a bit exasperated.

Relieved that there appears to be no malice or terrible awkwardness between the two, everyone resumes their own activities.

Now that they have some privacy, Taeyong allows some of his gentlemanly front to drop. “You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he mutters dryly as he sits down and pours his own glass of soju. “Are you... here alone?”

Yuta nods once. “Yes, for work reasons. Hansol’s joining me tomorrow for an... _event_ , though. Where’s Jaehyun?” he asks, idly picking at some kimchi with his chopsticks.

“Probably in bed? This get-together was a last minute thing, so it’s not like I had time to invite him,” Taeyong mumbles in return, helping himself to some mechurial jorim.

“Would you have?” his ex-husband inquires softly.

He hesitates for a fraction of a second. “Iー”

Their muted conversation comes to an abrupt halt as servers file into the room to lay down grills and generous portions of samgyeopsal, garlic, peppers, perilla leaves, and dipping sauces.

There are excited cheers around the table at the sight of food, but the Korean man only focuses on his ex-husband’s reaction; it’s positively _adorable_ , the way he beams and claps at the sight of food.

Some things never change.

“Would you like me to grill, for old times’ sake?” the elder offers, already reaching for the tongs.

“Sure,” the Japanese man answers calmly. “Let me make you some ssam, then. It’s the least I could do. You still like yours with extra everything and no pepper, right?”

The question sounds more like a statement, causing Taeyong‘s lips to twitch in light amusement. “Yeah, I do... and you still likes yours with lots of garlic, right?” he returns rhetorically.

(As if he could ever forget what Yuta likes.)

His ex-husband clicks his tongue. “Hurry up and start grilling. I get cranky when I’m hungry,” the younger hisses.

“Tell me something I _don’t_ know,” the Korean man snorts. However, he does as requested, loading pork belly and vegetables onto the hot grill with finesse.

They eat in relative peace for a while, cordially interacting with each other and other friends around the table. That is, until a certain talkative American man decides to introduce a new dinner topic for the entire group. “So, Yuta...” Johnny starts casually after taking a considerable shot of soju, ”you said you were in town for ESteem business. Care to elaborate a bit more on that?”

“Are you modeling again, hyung? Is that why you dyed your hair a bolder color recently?” Winwin jests around a mouthful of ssam.

Irene dabs her mouth with a napkin. “Is there going to be a fashion event here in Seoul?” she wonders interestedly.

“...Yes and no,” Yuta says after a small pause. “ _Yes,_ I was one of the models for ESteem’s fifteenth anniversary catalog, which will drop the day after tomorrow. _No,_ I dyed my hair just to try something different. And as for the event, it’s just a party at some country club. Nothing too special, I guess...” he trails off self-consciously.

“Oh, do you have any pictures from the shoot?” Seulgi asks excitedly. “What was the theme? What did you wear?!”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? I can’t tell,” Yuta laughs coyly. He half-smirks afterwards. “Buy the catalog when it comes out, guys. It’s full of pretty faces, so it should be the worth the money.”

The Japanese man excuses himself to the restroom not long after.

Taeyong watches him go with dark, unreadable eyes. He bides his time, chatting with the others for a few minutes before he excuses himself. “Restroom,” he mutters before making his way out.

 

 

When he enters the restroom, he’s surprised to find a shyly smiling Yuta conversing lightly with a tall stranger in quiet Japanese.

A tall stranger who’s standing _awfully close_ to his gorgeous ex-husband.

Taeyong feels an _ugly_ sensation bloom in his chest at the sight but refrains from doing anything foolish.

Yuta’s eyes widen a fraction when he catches sight of him but otherwise acts unfazed; he utters a few indistinct things to the stranger, who nods understandingly, albeit somewhat disappointedly, before excusing himself first with a deep bow.

The unknown man turns on his heel and makes his way out of the restroom, bowing his head politely as he passes Taeyong, who returns the gesture curtly.

Yuta notices that the businessman’s eyes are narrowed behind his silver fringe; he can tell that the elder is appraising the departing taller man. “Someone you know?” the Korean man inquires with a raised eyebrow once they’re alone.

“Just a fan who recognized me. He’s Japanese,” Yuta explains, shrinking a bit defensively under Taeyong’s demanding gaze. “His name’s Yuto. He seemed nice.”

_“Pleasant.”_ The businessman rolls his eyes and moves away from the door to wash his hands. “He looked quite... _happy_ to see you.”

“I didn’t think I was still somewhat relevant,” the former model chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “There are so many newer, younger, and prettier faces in the industry, after all.”

Taeyong tracks the tiny movement like a hawk. “No earrings today?” he hears himself ask. “That’s unusual...”

Yuta purses his lips. “I kept switching earrings during the shoot earlier, but I couldn’t find my own pair after! I didn’t bring extra pairs, either,” he groans. “I’m going to be ugly for the rest of this damn tripー”

“You’re _always_ pretty.” The Japanese man clamps his mouth shut and stiffens as his ex-husband slinks towards him then crowds him against the cold marble counter without warning. _“So, so pretty...”_

_“Stop,”_ Yuta grumbles in weak protest, cheeks red due to a complicated mix of embarrassment and pleasure. He’s _overwhelmed_. His ex-husband’s _so_ close, perhaps a hair’s breadth away; his warmth and familiar scent are pervading his senses maddeningly. “We _talked_ about this. You _promised_ you wouldー”

_'“Respect your wishes?”'_ Taeyong completes the statement breathily. “I _do_ , you knowー I _always have_ and _always will_.”

A strangled whine escapes the younger’s throat as a fleeting peck is planted on his cheek.

And it’s _not_ a chaste one this time.

The Korean man draws back unexpectedly, and Yuta barely manages to resist whining again.

For what reason, he’s not sure. And that lack of knowledge and control is _frightening_.

“Well, I’m going to go back to the table. I’m okay on time, but _you_ , on the other hand, have been gone for a little too long,” Taeyong comments dully, feigning unaffectedness easily. “I’ll tell the others you got sidetracked chatting with a fan.”

He marches off without another word. The Japanese man can only stare after the retreating form disbelievingly.

_What the actual **fuck** just happened?_

_Why does it feel like he’s fighting a **losing battle** every time his ex-husband invades his personal space and touches him?_

“Oh, and Yuta?” Said man blinks away the shock and looks up from the floor at the sudden address.

_“What?”_ he snips, grimacing. “Don’t you have something _better_ to do than bully me?”

Much to his chagrin, the businessman has the gall to pretend to look offended. “I did _not_ bully you. No need to be dramatic. I just have one tiny question,” he retaliates brazenly. He pushes open the door but lingers in the doorway with his back to the younger. “I know you don’t want to spoil the surprise, but I’m _really curious_... What was the theme of your shoot? I can keep a secret.”

Yuta sucks his teeth.

Oh, yes, he knows how good the Korean man is at keeping secrets, and vice versa.

It’s to be expected, _as they’re each other’s biggest one_.

The former model nearly seethes. He should’ve barred Taeyong from coming tonight. He came out to have a good time, not get emotionally attacked by his handsome but unpredictable ex-husband. _“Love and Lust,”_ he concedes warily after a moment’s hesitation.

Taeyong’s eyes are alight with mysterious intrigue. “How... _interesting_. I’m sure the public will receive it well,” he pronounces carefully. “Well, anyway, come back to the table soon.”

He walks out for real after that, and Yuta contemplates whether he should _kill_ him or _kiss_ him the next time they’re alone together before trudging out himself.


	2. Light and Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait! I meant to post this a few days ago, but I've been so burnt out from school and work. I'm also super behind on my internship hours because I had trouble contacting my replacement mentor; the problem's still not totally resolved, so I'm still pretty anxious...
> 
> Ngl, I've been pretty down lately. There are a lot of things on my mind these days, but I'm happy I can at least distract myself by writing. ^^" I don't think I'll be able to write as frequently with all the coursework I have, but I'll try and make up for the slower updates by making longer chapters than I normally would.
> 
> Just a heads-up, this chapter is YuTae-centered. To avoid any confusion, the first portion provides some missing context from With(out) You (Heartbreak Hotel)~ (remember that thing I should still thoroughly proofread LOL)

_“What do **I** think? How am I even supposed to answer that?!” Yuta sobs brokenly into the night. He can feel his ex-husband tightening his grip on his hand and waist, ramming into him with more urgency, spilling into his used and abused insides potently..._

_And then he feels absolutely nothing. For a few seconds, everything is just **white** ー no frenetic passion, no pain, no heartache, no Taeyongー and he falls out of consciousness into a sort of haze._

_The Korean man tenses as the younger grows limp and unresponsive in his hold. “Yuta?” he whispers worriedly, furrowing his brows when the other man replies with only a low, senseless whine. “Are you with me?”_

_No response._

_Sighing, Taeyong pulls out of his dazed lover’s sensual heat, presses a somewhat apologetic kiss to his damp nape, and fixes his pants before adjusting his hold and stance; then he’s scooping Yuta into his arms with the utmost gentleness and walking them over to one of the lounge chairs. He lays his ex-husband down on it carefully._

_The elder doesn’t take a seat himself. Rather, he kneels on the ground beside the chair like some devoted servant waiting for his slumbering prince to awaken. To kill time, the businessman occupies himself with his thoughts and with stroking one of Yuta’s bare, delicate hands._

_Once upon a time, the Japanese man used to wear a humble wedding ring; he couldn’t wear it in public often due to the secretive nature of their relationship at the time, but he’d had the wedding ring all the same. Taeyong absently wonders if he’ll one day wear another, more extravagant one from Hansol or some other faceless man, wear it proudly and publiclyー_

_“...Taeyong?” The Korean man’s wandering mind quiets instantly at the sound of his ex-husband’s mumble. He peers down at the former model’s face curiously; the other man’s eyes are firmly shut, but he can make out some faint movement beneath his eyelids. “Hey, can I ask you something?”_

_“What is it?” the elder responds quietly, withdrawing the hand resting atop Yuta’s to brush some silver fringe away from his forehead. “Are you alright?”_

_“Are you mad at me?” The younger opens his eyes then, and the muted sadness Taeyong sees in them makes his heart clench. “Or... has something in particular been stressing you out lately?”_

_The businessman frowns, genuinely confused. “No. Why would you think that?”_

_”This is becoming too much,” Yuta confesses in a small voice, biting his lip. He sits up with mild difficulty and assesses the condition of his ravaged body with a dull gaze. “I’m not expecting you to treat me sweetly or anything, but these last few meet-ups... I don’t know,” he tries to elaborate. “You’ve been getting rougher. You do make me feel... **good** , but I can’t help but think about how **dirty** I am afterwards, like aー”_

_**“Don’t!”** Taeyong interrupts harshly, knowing the word “whore” was on the tip of the former model’s tongue. It’s a word he can’t bear to hear. “No, Yuta, no. That was never my intention...”_

_The Japanese man lowers his head in a dispirited manner, and Taeyong crawls closer on his knees until the lounge chair is digging insistently into his front. He’s upset his lover during their secret nights together before, but never to such a serious extent as this. “Yuta, please talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind. I respectー”_

_“Really? I don’t think I look **respectable** covered in sweat, bruises, and come.” Yuta knows his humorless, bitter remark cuts the other man deeply. It feels good for a second, the sense of regaining power over the situation, then it just makes him feel even more wretched than before. “I’m sorry,” he ends up apologizing miserably, “that was uncalled for. I know you respect meー I respect you, too, **so much** ー but I just wantー”_

_“I’ll give you whatever you want and more,” his ex-husband murmurs earnestly. “I’ve always respected your wishes, and I promise I’ll show that better and ease up from now on. I’d never force you into anything you didn’t want or purposely make you unhappy... I’m so sorry.”_

_Yuta ponders Taeyong’s remorseful statement for a long while before eventually nodding in acquiescence. He then stares up meekly at his ex-husband and scoots over a little; it’s a silent invitation, and the other man wordlessly accepts it in a heartbeat, squeezing into the limited space and becoming his big spoon._

_The younger realizes in that moment how different his ex-husband’s embrace is from Hansol’s; it doesn’t feel as safe or warm or all-encompassing._

_But he welcomes it anyway. It’s familiar, and he enjoys being held._

_“I’m not asking for too much, am I? I know we’re not supposed to be affectionate when we’re not... you know...” Yuta speaks up self-consciously after realizing how pathetically needy he must’ve looked a few seconds ago._

_He’s quickly soothed by the Korean man’s dismissive hum. “I can afford to indulge you tonight,” the businessman snorts not unkindly._

_Yuta swallows anxiously. “I’m sorry for not speaking up earlier. I should’ve talked to you about how I felt instead of bottling up my feelings. It’d be ridiculous for miscommunication to break us apart a second time,” he reflects honestly._

_“You’re right,” the Korean man agrees, stifling a yawn against his lover’s back. “Hey, Yuta? Since we’re already sort of having a heart-to-heart here, let’s be open with each other...”_

_“Of course,” the Japanese man replies, allowing himself to relax completely as his ex-husband begins rubbing his belly._

_“Do you love Hansol?” Taeyong inquires cautiously. “You said you did, albeit a bit...”_

_**(Uncertainly.)** _

_“No... I don’t love him yet, but as corny as it sounds, I know I’m falling for him a bit more with each passing day,” Yuta answers sincerely, closing his eyes again as he gradually loses himself in his ex-husband’s therapeutic touches. “He treats me like I’m special and likes to do everything with me and is just such a charming person... Is that how it is between you and Jaehyun?”_

_“Exactly so,” his lover chuckles lightheartedly, grinning at the thought of his cute boyfriend. “He’s so doting and enthusiastic about everything and is as sweet as honey. I can’t help but keep falling for him...”_

_“I’m glad. For both of us, I mean.” The younger means what he says and manages to speak steadily, yet his narrowed eyes and quivering lips suggest a hidden discontentment. It’s a good thing his back is to Taeyongー it wouldn’t do to let the other man see him in such a pitiful state again so soon. He inhales sharply and mutters, “We deserve second chances at loveー”_

_“I’ll always adore **you** the most, though.” Taeyong’s voice comes out so uncharacteristically shy that it renders Yuta frozen and tugs at his heartstrings. “I know I tend to act irrationally possessive, sex-crazed, even sadistic during our nights together, but I really do adore you as a person, more than words can say...”_

_“We’re not supposed to say that kind of stuff out loud,” the former model scolds gruffly, pressing his face more firmly into the chair’s plush lining. However, in contrast to his disapproving words, he rearranges his bare legs so they’re better intertwined with his ex-husband’s clothed ones. “Don’t make it sound like we have something more meaningful than we actually do. It’s not good for either of our hearts,” he adds in a muffled voice._

_The businessman sighs wistfully, clutching the other man tighter as if doing so would rid them both of their inner turmoil. “But you adore me, too, right? Even after everything that’s happened between us?”_

_“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, obviously,” Yuta replies, careful to keep his voice neutral while ignoring the way his heart’s beating a tattoo in his chest. “We’ve both changed a lot, though. We have different priorities now, and **this**... **this** can’t go on forever. You know it wasn’t meant to, unless...” he trails off._

_The implications hang heavy in the air._

_“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Taeyong’s answer is a bit delayed, and there’s an unreadable glint in his eyes. He suddenly repositions them, and Yuta nearly squeaks in shock as he finds himself being pressed into the lounge chair with his ex-husband straddling him. “Hey, Yuta? How much longer do you think we’ll go on like this?” the elder wonders, practically gazing down into the Japanese man’s soul._

_The other man just shakes his head. The Korean man frowns at the lack of clear responsiveness, and is about to comment as such when his lover stammers insecurely, “This might sound fucked up and disgustingly sentimental, but I think... I think a part of me will always feel lonely without you. It’s so **unfair**...”_

_They younger’s hushed, conflicted admission leaves Taeyong shaken. The elder jerks his head to the side, his moonlight locks concealing his now stinging eyes. He manages a strained laugh. “Well then, I guess I have something fucked up and ridiculously emotional to get off my chest, too. The thought of you not being in my life is **dreadful** ー”_

_Yuta interrupts his ex-husband with a disbelieving, somewhat critical huff. “That’s kind of funny,” he mumbles sardonically. Manners be damned. “You’re scared of **me** walking out of **your** life? As far as I remember, **you’re** the one who’s been pushing **me** away first sinceー”_

_**“Don’t!”** Taeyong snaps, pinning his lover forcefully when he attempts to buck him off. It’s not strong enough to be bruising, but it provides ample warning. “Don’t,” he repeats, sounding more level the second time, though he’s barely able to control himself under the Japanese man’s imploring gaze. “I know what you’re thinking...”_

_“It’d be difficult, but I’d be willing to try if you were,” the former model conveys mindfully. He unconsciously licks his lips in anticipation when he feels one of the businessman’s dominant hands abandon its position on his shoulder to capture his chin. “Would it be so bad, to try to forget, to move on normally, to beー”_

_**“Friends?”** the elder finishes huskily, a ghost of a smile forming on his face as his long fingers teasingly trace over his ex-husband’s pretty parted lips and mochi-soft cheeks. “I can’t be your **friend**.”_

_“No, weー no... nothing with labels, nothing too intimate. Just being civil would be enough for me...” Yuta corrects warily, swatting the rude digits away from his face._

_They’re back in the blink of an eye, unfortunately, and he grunts as they capture his chin again in an almost playful fashion. “Why’re you bullying me?” he demands, tempted to reach up and smack the elder for all of the bullshit he’s put him through._

_“Oh, I’m not, really. As far as civility goes, we’ll see...” Taeyong concludes vaguely before claiming his lips with mock affection._

_However, the Korean man recoils as if burned when his phone begins to ring with a familiar tune out of the blue. His lover flinches, as well, recognizing the ringtone instantly._

_“I’m sorry. I swear I silenced itー” Taeyong rushes out frantically._

_Never has **this** happened before, and of all nights to make a critical mistake..._

_“City of Stars” from La La Land’s playing, which means only one thing: **Jaehyun’s calling**._

_“No, **I’m** sorry.” Yuta shoves him off of him before sitting up and bringing his legs to chest. “Please answer that. It wouldn’t be good to keep him waiting. Besides, we don’t have anything else to discuss, right?” the younger remarks soberly._

_Their moment is over._

_“Right.” Taeyong sucks his teeth, grabs his phone, and shuffles past the table laden with their most likely spoiled room service to the seat across from Yuta’s._

_He accepts the call just as his ex-husband picks up his own phone and starts to type something out tentativelyー a message to Hansol, perhaps._

_Both men immerse themselves in the task of communicating with their real lovers, unaware of the fact that they’re both tinkering with their special jewelry._

 

 

After paying, the large friend group stands huddled outside the restaurant under a roofed area. It’s currently raining cats and dogs, much to their utter surprise and displeasure. “Who knew that an 18 percent chance of rain could look so _devastating_?” Kun comments gloomily, his tone reflecting the poor weather perfectly.

Ten sighs deeply as he zips up his hoodie. “We”ー he gestures to himself and a moody-looking Johnnyー”didn’t check the weather before leaving. We just assumed that there’d be clear skies all day today since that’s how it’s been the entire week,” he confesses.

“You guys weren’t the only ones,” Seulgi chimes in sheepishly, leaning into Irene’s loose embrace.

“We didn’t check, either,” Kai mumbles, wrapping an arm around a lightly shivering Krystal to keep her warm.

“I checked while I was driving here, but I didn’t think it was worth worrying about or bringing up since the percentage was low,” Taeyong says apologetically.

Winwin sulks against Kun’s side. “Is it too late to go back inside and wait things out for a while? This restaurant is open twenty-four hours a day, isn't it? Oh, or maybe we could head to a convenience store real quick to buy umbrellas?” he suggests anxiously.

Krystal dismisses the idea instantly. “It’s already pretty late, and the rain doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. It’d be better to just plan forward and get home as soon as possible,” she reasons, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“There’s probably no room for us inside anymore, anyway. We passed the waiting area on our way out, and it looked beyond full. It’s not worth running through the rain for some umbrellas, either,” Johnny adds with a firm shake of his head. However, his face brightens a second later, and he whips out his phone in a hurry. “Oh, I’ve got an idea, guys! Instead of moping around, why don’t we call some taxis?” he suggests as he displays his screen with humorous flourish, eager to restore the group’s positivity. “I’ve got the number right here! Sure, we’ll have to pay the late-night fee, but it beats walking in this rainー”

_“I’m sorry!”_ Yuta’s sudden outburst causes his friends to raise their eyebrows in confusion. “I’m _really_ sorry!” the Japanese man repeats, staring down at the ground dejectedly.

“...Why?” Taeyong‘s the first one to verbalize the question on everyone’s mind. He’s confused like the others, but his ex-husband’s out-of-place, guilty expression quickly raises an inkling of suspicion within him. “Yuta,” he finds himself continuing before the other man can even open his mouth to reply, “what’re you beating yourself up over?”

The younger stiffens upon hearing the question but refuses to look up. “I’m sorry,” he starts awkwardly, his sweater paws swinging back and forth at his sides out of nervous habit. “Maybe I shouldn’t have invited you guys out tonight after all... It was rude of me to make impromptu, pricey dinner plans late at night in the first place, and now the weather’s causing us problemsー”

The former model’s blathering is cut off by an abrupt explosion of vehement protests and reassuring remarks.

“Dude, you _can’t_ be serious!” Johnny exclaims disbelievingly. “We missed you, missed having barbecue night with you!“

“Hyung, don’t feel bad!” Winwin soothes, determined to rid the elder of his unfounded worries. “We’re all so _happy_ to spend time with you again after so long. The rain’s not so bad, really. I was just overreacting!”

“Everything happens for a reason,” Jongin points out matter-of-factly. “Don’t beat yourself up just because you can’t control your schedule or the weather.”

“Yuta, in my opinion, tonight was perfect,” Irene declares with a small, comforting smile. “What the weather’s like, where we eat, what time it isー those kinds of things don’t matter as long as we’re together and having fun, right?”

As he continues to listen to more of his friends’ kind words, Yuta feels the stress seep out of his body. “Thank you,” he murmurs faintly but meaningfully once the chatter dies down.

Somehow, over the deafening sound of splattering raindrops, his friends manage to hear his thanks. They chuckle good-naturedly, and he responds with his trademark sunshine smile, relieved.

Taeyong shamelessly ogles that _magnificent, nostalgia-inducing beam_ for only a fraction of a second before schooling his features into a mask of cool placidity once more. He actually hasn’t participated in the conversation at all since calling Yuta out, but no one seems bothered by his extended silence or his almost ghostly lack of presence.

Truthfully, the businessman doubts anyone even notices or cares about him very much at the moment. He doesn’t mind a single bit, though; he’s content with the temporary invisibility, the break from playing nice. Besides, he likes that their attention is centered on Yuta.

His captivating ex-husband deserves it.

 

 

The discussion on call taxis reopens in no time. “So,” Seulgi practically yells, straining to be heard to be heard over the worsening rain and occasional shrieks of passers-by, “how are we doing this? Are we all getting our own taxis? One jumbo? Or should we do smaller groups?”

“I think it’d be most efficient to do small groups, honestly!” Jongin booms. “The ten of us should just split up based on direction or something. Let’s do three taxis?”

“Yeah, that sounds about right!” Kun shouts immediately. He likes the Korean man’s idea, and it seems that many of the others do, too, if their hollers are anything to go by. “So Seulgi-noona, Irene-noona, Sicheng, and I will take a taxi going east. And you, Ten, Johnny-hyung, and Krystal-noona will take one going south, right? So that meansー oh, wait...”ーhe pauses for a second and scratches headー“Yuta-hyung needs to go south, too, but... well, he can just share the other taxi withー”

_“Wait!”_ Yuta interrupts quickly, the thought of being alone with Taeyong again making his nerves sing with some complicated sensation. “Can’t I just squeeze in with the southbound group? I’mー”

“You wouldn’t be able to squeeze even if you wanted to. The taxis here can only seat four passengers at a time,” Johnny reminds the younger seriously as he dials the number and brings his phone to his ear. “Just ride with Taeyong. It’ll be safer and roomier, Yuta...”

Knowing how internally spooked his ex-husband must be, a sympathetic Taeyong opens his mouth to half-heartedly protest on his behalf. However, he gets cut off swiftly by Krystal. “They have good points,” she says in that same no-nonsense tone, crossing her arms tightly. “Let’s do things their way.”

Two of the three taxis are there in no time. The friends exchange rushed but sincere goodbyes, then the larger groups take their leave first.

Although Taeyong wishes they could’ve hung out longer, a new wave of anticipation surges through him.

Now it’s just him and Yuta alone together.

How _fun_.

The Japanese man doesn’t look to be having any fun, though. As soon as their friends are gone, his bright expression darkens into one marred by wariness. He tugs his baseball cap down low and wears his mask again as if to create a defensive front; he’s so _tense_ , like a doe that knows it’s being stalked by some hidden hunter or predator.

Taeyong knows he should probably say something comforting to the other manー maybe he should reassure the younger that he’s not going to bite or jump his bones or anything ( _in plain sight_ , at least...)ー but he can’t bring himself to break the awkward, oppressive silence that’s fallen over them.

So he settles for just observing.

Yuta’s standing no more than an arm’s length away, yet the former model seems dead set on ignoring his existence now that they don’t have to keep up amicable appearances. His body language reeks of nervousness; it’s _adorable_ , though, the way he fiddles with his sweater paws and scans the streets endlessly for the taxi that should’ve arrived by now.

Hazy, irrational thoughts start to cloud Taeyong’s mind...

_Did their friends really not see through his and Yuta’s platonic facades?_

_Does some cruel higher power out there really enjoy sticking them together in unlikely situations?_

_For what reason did Mother Nature shower such bitter rain on their night?_

_Would his ex-husband like to do some... **catching up** with him?_

“Stop staring at me like that. Are you thinking something weird?” Yuta grouches audibly, the weight of the elder’s unnerving gaze on his profile now too burning and burdensome to ignore. He hesitantly turns away from the dismal, rain-shrouded streets to face the Korean man. The distant expression that greets him dismisses his inhibitions instantly. “Are you alright? You don’t look so good...”

Without thinking, he bridges the gap between them in a few steps. Up close, Taeyong’s gorgeous eyes look even more glazed over. The other signs of stress on his face are more prominent now, too; there are dark circles beneath his eyes, and the angles of his handsome but rather colorless face are even more clear-cut than before.

The Japanese man’s heart lurches at the distressing sight of his ex-husband’s fatigued countenance. Why hadn’t he noticed earlier? He hopes it’s just the dim, unflattering outdoor lighting making the other man look so _worn_...

“Taeyong, are you sick? Drunk?” he wonders, genuinely concerned. He frowns when the elder just blinks at him incredulously and snorts.

“Me, _drunk_? That’s cute, Yuta. As if I could get drunk off of those weak ass bottles of soju we always order. Why, I’m not even tipsy,” the businessman chuckles with a shake of his head. “I just recently got over a cold, you know, so cut me some slack if my face still looks haggard and unattractiveー”

_“Please,”_ the younger scoffs, taking a step back. His ex-husband must surely be fine if he has enough energy to joke around. And to think he wasted his breath for nothing. “As if _you_ could ever be _unattractive_. And you call _me_ the stupid one,” he comments with a tsk.

A smart remark is on the tip of Taeyong’s tongue, but he forgets all about it when obnoxiously bright headlights are suddenly cast in their direction. A blaring honk follows not long after. Squinting through the intimidating veil of rain, shine, and shadow, both men make out a godsend in the form of their late taxi.

It pulls up to the curb before them, and the ahjussi behind the wheel shoots them an expectant look to hurry up and get in. Without any further ado, the pair rush into the vehicle frantically.

They’re exposed to the rain for only a few miserable seconds during the transition, yet the the businessman and former model feel _utterly soaked_ and _sick to the core_ after getting assaulted by the violent barrage of unpleasant, icy needles. They unceremoniously sag into the cozy leather seats, relishing the toasty change of setting. “Hello. Where to?” they hear the driver ask perfunctorily.

“Hello,” Yuta replies politely, albeit a bit breathlessly, “we’d like to make two stops, please...” He glances at his ex-husband out of the corner of his eye and grimaces when he realizes how badly the drenched elder is shivering. “First to the parking structure a few blocks west of hereー my... _acquaintance’s_ car is parked thereー then south to the Lotte Hotel,” he states. “Oh, and please turn the heater up, ahjussi. Thank you.”

The driver nods in understanding and begins his service, so the Japanese man reverts his attention to man beside him. “Taeyong,” he whispers, “are you sure you’re over your cold?”

“I thought _I_ was supposed to be the nagging mother type, not _you_ ,” the Korean man mumbles with bland humor. The younger man looks ready to give him hell for his flippancy, so he smoothly amends, “It was a _very_ debilitating cold, but I’m one hundred percent sure over it. I’m just slow to recover from those kinds of things, remember?”

“I guess,” Yuta answers, not sounding totally convinced. “How’re you really feeling at the moment, though?”

“Sleepy, chilly, full, unwilling to moveー the list goes on,” Taeyong rattles off monotonously. He then grins a sweet, rare grin out of nowhere, the one-eighty snatching his ex-husband’s breath away in an instant. “Hey, I was just being a smartass earlier because I like pressing your buttons. I honestly do appreciate your concern, you know,” he confesses quietly.

“Whatever you say...” Yuta wants to berate himself for getting so flustered over nothing, but he can’t help it.

Taeyong’s sincere smile, when not laced with mean, prurient intent, alight with annoying self-assuredness and control, or dimmed by transactional self-restraint, is so _nostalgically, heartwarmingly beautiful_ , he can barely believe it’s real. It’s been ages since he’s seen that smileー well, directed _only at him_ , and _only for him_ , at least.

_Jaehyun probably gets to enjoy that smile a lot,_ Yuta thinks offhandedly, and the unexpected, _ugly_ emotion accompanying this fleeting thought makes him thin his lips in indescribable irritation. “Well, try and get some rest tonight. I think we’ll arrive at your stop soon...” the younger finishes after a short pause, tone clipped.

Not knowing what else to really say, Yuta clears his throat stiffly and jerks his head in the other direction. Maybe looking out the window and thinking of Hansolー who he _really, really_ misses and can’t wait to see, by the wayー will help calm his cloudy state of mind.

Yes, he’s so excited to reunite with his gentle, loving boyfriend. In the morning, he’ll meet the choreographer at the station, and then they’ll go around Seoul and do cute, coupley things before attending the ESteem party. _A happy, healthy, unstressful romance indeed..._

“We’re here,” the driver announces a few minutes later.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” The Japanese man stoically gazes into the window; with bated breath, he observes the silhouetted reflection of his ex-husband pay part of the fare and scoot towards the door. “Thanks for letting me come to barbecue, Yuta,” the other man says politely, putting one hand on the door handle. “It was... _fun_ , and I hope you had fun with everyone, too. See you around?”

“Wait, Taeyong...” Unable to keep his silence any longer, the former model swivels in his seat to regard the businessman; an infinitesimal, irrational part of him isn’t ready for the Korean man to go yet. However, the invisibly blossoming color of disappointment in his eyes promptly changes into one of surprise upon spotting a cordially proffered hand. “Iー _Oh_?”

“I just wanted to shake your hand. No need to look so startled, Yuta,” Taeyong jokes, amused by the younger’s almost deer-in-headlights expression.

“Ever the gentleman, you are,” Yuta counters wryly as he takes the extended hand.

Taeyong clenches his jaw at the _electrifying_ contact. His senses, dulled by tiredness and fullness, are reawakened as he grips Yuta’s hand; it’s not feminine, nor does it feel as warm as it usually does, but it’s small, soft, pretty, and fits perfectly in his all the same. He’s missed feeling the other man like this. He would’ve gone in for another peck had the driver not been peeking at them with impatient, slightly judgmental eyes in the rearview mirror...

The elder lets go first. He mumbles a small thank you and goodbye and is about to open the door when his ex-husband grabs his hand again tightly. Confused, Taeyong turns to question the younger. He doesn’t get the chance to, however, because Yuta voices meekly, “Ahjussi... _actually_ , I changed my mind. I want to get off here, too. Sorry.”

The next few events are utterly surreal. Taeyong can only watch, frozen in bewilderment, as Yuta tosses the driver an extravagant tip before turning back to him with a smoldering look that screams, “Don’t make me fucking regret this.”

Then the Japanese man’s hand is joining his on the door handle.

What happens next is a blur for Taeyong.

But as he’s made to stumble outside into the bone-chilling downpour once more, his clarity returns. The businessman hastily wrenches his hand out of his companion’s and whirls to face him and the departing taxi. _“Yuta,”_ he yells testily, glowering in the other man's direction, “what’re youー”

An insistent, blazing mouth devours his next words, and Taeyong finds himself relaxing into the surprising kiss despite the unpleasant environment. He jolts, though, as the former model’s hand dives into his front pocket and steals his keys. “Thanks, I needed those,” Yuta whispers shakily against his parted lips. “Anyway, I can always take another taxi back to my hotel... but I don’t trust you to drive home alone. You’ve had a long day, and you drank a lot, weak soju or not. So... how about I drive you instead?”

How could the elder refuse?

They’re inside his car in no time. “You still have this?” his ex-husband wonders aloud, fingering the picture holder dangling from the rearview mirror with glittering eyes.

“Of course,” the Korean man answers snappily, not in the mood for small talk. “Now start driving us back to my place, or I’ll fuck you in my backseat.”

The younger frowns sternly as he shifts into drive. “Excuse me, but there’ll be _no_ fucking tonight. I _honestly_ just want to drive you home, then I’ll be right on my wayー”

“Drive, Yuta. _Now_ ,” Taeyong interrupts, the enticing but forceful edge to his voice making the other man squirm in his seat. “I’ll send you on your way, alright, but not without _warming you up_ first...”

 

 

“It’s my first time being back here in forever... I think I like what you did with the place. The new decor and stuff looks nice.” Taeyong nearly drops the kettle he’s filling with water at Yuta’s random comment.

_“...What?”_ He whips around to face his ex-husband, who has a mortified blush spreading across his cheeks. The Japanese man’s awkwardly sitting with his knees to his chest on the kitchen counter; his honey-colored hair is messy, and his lips are jutted out almost apologetically. _“What did you say?”_ he repeats lowly, dropping the kettle in favor of stalking towards the other man with _teasing_ intent.

Yuta scoots back as much as he can on the countertop, but Taeyong caging him in is inevitable. “The changes you made to the house look nice,” he shares quietly as he meets the elder’s prying gaze straight on, “like the new couches and tables and stuff...”

“Well, I naturally had to get new stuff to fill the empty spaces. The old stuff was  _yours_ , and it’s only fair that you got to take all of it after we... _yeah_ ,” the businessman remarks in a fairly nonchalant manner. “Do you still have everything, if you don't mind me asking?"

The former model licks his lips. “Of course I do. I needed to furnish my apartment in Busan somehow,” he responds before averting his gaze. “Now quit crowding me, and go back to making tea,” he demands half-heartedly. “It’s not going to make itself, you knowー”

“How funny. I don’t think I’m thirsty for tea anymore,” the Korean man cuts in rudely as he captures the younger’s chin with one hand. “Can’t I interest you in _something else_? Something a little moreー”

“I want tea. _Only tea_ ,” Yuta counters with a dangerous pout. _“Please, Taeyong?”_ he implores in a way that would break anyone’s resolve.

The other man purses his lips but draws back to resume his previous task. _“Fine,”_ he chuckles coolly, “if that’s what you really want...”

It doesn’t take long for Taeyong to finish making tea. He carefully pours the steaming green liquid into two cups. “Matcha was always your favorite,” he muses, glancing at his ex-husband with barely concealed fondness. “Shall we sit at the table?”

Without waiting for a response, Taeyong makes his way to the table, and Yuta follows after the elder like a shadow. “I used to sit here a lot with my books,” the younger recalls, sounding a bit distant. He stares deeply into his tea, but the wistful expression of his reflection is all that greets him. _“I used to wait up for you...”_

With that, the conversation dies. Both men lose themselves in their drinks and thoughts.

 

 

As Taeyong wordlessly collects their empty cups, Yuta checks his phone for the first time in a while and is startled by how late it is. “ _Shit!_ It’s almost three in the morning!” he gasps, rising to his feet in a hurry. “I should go. I have a lot of things to do in the morning...”

The Japanese man haphazardly replaces his baseball cap and mask. He then busies himself with looking up the number for the taxi service from earlier, only to lose his focus when he’s suddenly tugged backwards by the hips into a certain someone’s chest.

“The rain hasn’t let up one bit,” his ex-husband mumbles into the crook of his neck. Yuta shivers as he feels a sensual kiss shock his cool skin. “And you’re still a little cold... How about a warm shower?”

“Please tell me you're kidding. That's an _awful_ idea, and you know it.” Although Taeyong’s invitation sounds... _exciting_ , Yuta’s determined not to give in. It's already bad enough that they engage in adulterous activities on an intermittent basis, but sleeping together in what used to be _their married house_? If there's one line Yuta refuses to cross, it's that one. “There's _no way_ we're doing _that_. Let’s just call it a night. And even if I did want it, to do it _here_ would beー”

“Hey, hey. I won’t force you. I’d _never_ force you,” Taeyong reassures the anxious man in his arms. “I promised I’d ease up, and I’ll do just that. You can call that taxi and go, and I won’t fight you. But I just wanted to remind you...” he breathes against the shell of his illicit lover’s ear, “that I can go  _slow_  and _deep_ , too...”

Yuta’s pupils dilate at the implication, and he feels his resolve falter in that moment.

 

 

Yuta wants to blame the alcohol. It’s totally the alcohol’s fault.

_Really._

_“Taeyong!”_ the former model keens desperately. He’s extremely ansty due to the maddeningly drawn-out prep. But whenever he tries to pull away or turn around, the businessman just squeezes his ass warningly with those large hands of his before continuing to stretch him with his tongue and fingers. “Stop it, okay? I swear I’m ready,” he insists between his ragged breaths.

Taeyong eventually quits his teasing and stands up to press himself against his ex-husband's back intimately. “You won't even let a starving man eat and play in peace? You're no fun, Yuta,” the Korean man sing-songs sinfully. “Such a _bad boy_. Hyung's trying to go _slow_ so you won't get _hurt_ ー”

_“Shut the fuck up and get on with it already!”_ his lover hisses savagely against the shower wall.

Taeyong clicks his tongue at the other man’s bratty outburst but doesn't discipline him with dominant touches or sharp words like he usually would. He promised he'd ease up, and he's a man of his word.

So instead of punishing Yuta cruelly, he opts for an alternate method of torture; he starts attacking him with infuriatingly light kisses and slow, deep thrusts, and the results are _delicious_. Pleased, Taeyong gorges himself on the Japanese man’s endearing whimpers and moans like a man possessed. He rocks his hips into the younger’s clenching entrance and works on establishing a reasonable tempo. “Is this okay?” he asks after they break apart for air. “If it’s too rough or fastー”

“It’s good,” Yuta pants. He momentarily opens his closed eyes to send the elder an honest, comforting look before closing them again. “It’s really, really good. It’s _perfect_...”

“I’m glad, then,” the elder sighs, relieved.

Worries assuaged, he concentrates on his thrusts, grinning to himself when the other man gradually starts pushing back to meet them halfway. “You feel _amazing_ ,” the businessman praises wholeheartedly, his secret grin widening more as he feels his lover practically _preen_ against him. He drags one hand up from the curve of the former model’s hip to settle on his flat belly. “So _thin_... Can you feel me here, Yuta?”

_“Oh!”_ Yuta’s eyes fly open as an oddly arousing pressure is applied to his middle all of a sudden. A series of broken moans is torn from his throat as the hand presses _harder_ and the thrusts get _sloppier_. _“What’re you doing?!”_ he inquires nervously, throwing Taeyong a brief, defensive glare over his shoulder before squeezing his eyes shut again.

“You’ll always be the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen, but... I think you went a little too far when you dieted for your comeback. I’ve never seen you so _skinny_ before.” As if to emphasize his point, Taeyong delicately traces his ex-husband’s subtly concave tummy with a serious frown. “If I would've known you looked like this under your clothes, I would've shoved more food down your throat during dinner. God, I wonder...”

“You wonder?” the Japanese man repeats in a dazed fashion, feeling ready to burst any second. His self-imposed sensory deprivation alone was already intense, but now his erection’s brushing against the wall with each dizzying, gratifying thrust he receives, and the elder’s naughty hand on his stomach, strangely enough, isー well, it’s just aggravating his state of _frustrated limbo_. “You wonder _what_?”

Without preamble, the sweet, caring side of the Korean man disappears and is replaced by his sinister, salacious side. “I wonder... If I keep filling you up, will your tummy round out a bit and look healthier? Wouldn’t that be fun and sexy to try?” he suggests silkily. “I promise I won’t be too rough...”

Yuta comes hard enough to see _stars_ at the filthy words, yet the swirling pools of immense guilt and insatiable longing within him do not dissipate.

 

 

“Are you going to see Jaehyun tomorrow since you’re off?” Taeyong stops running his fingers through Yuta’s shiny golden strands as he considers the question.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pay him a visit... Maybe I’ll grab a bite to eat at his family’s restaurant so I can see him that way,” he answers slowly, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “What do your date plans with Hansol entail?”

The younger lets out a kittenish yawn as he makes himself comfortable between his ex-husband’s legs. “We’re just going to do some sightseeing and shopping and such around Seoul before the party. He’s someone who appreciates the aesthetic things in life, so lots of high-end cafes and stores and such will be on our agenda for sure...” he trails off lazily, his utterly fatigued mind and body not really wanting to focus on anything besides the soothing fragrance of the cherry blossom-colored bath water.

“I see. Good for you...” the Korean man says lightly as he continue to play with his lover’s hair. “Have lots of snacks, and take care of yourself, okay? Fragile’s not an image that suits you.”

“Likewise,” the Japanese man returns with a muted, sleepy hum. “Oh... if you don’t mind, can we switch positions? I want to play with your hair, too...”

After some clumsy, lethargic maneuvering on both ends, the two men’s positions are reversed. “It’s nice that you redid this hair color. It really suits you,” the former model murmurs, carding his fingers through the silky silver strands contentedly.

Taeyong just makes a noncommittal sound and focuses on enjoying the pampering to the fullest. It’ll probably only last a few more minutes, then he’ll have to pull away. Both of them must go back to keeping each other at arm’s length; they must constantly be on their guards, for if they were to _slip_ , to allow themselves to become even _friendlier_ , well...

The thought gives him a headache, so he decides to think about Jaehyun instead. He misses the youngerー his incredible cooking, his fluffy cheeks, his gentle, sincere mannerisms, his _everything_ ー a lot, and he experiences an upsetting pang in his heart.

The businessman reckons it’s a volatile cocktail of moral conflict and copious amounts of yearning.

Yuta’s hand unexpectedly untangles from his hair and falls back into the bath water with a tiny splash. The elder tenses. “Yuta?” he calls out drowsily, somewhat miffed by the halt in therapeutic action.

He turns to face the former model and convey his annoyance, yet he feels his negativity melt away as he’s met with the sight of the other man's angelic sleeping face. _“Oh...”_

It looks like a change of plans is necessary.

Taeyong forces himself up and out of the bath, wraps a towel around his waist, and pads over to the bathroom counter. He grabs Yuta’s phone to check the time and nearly curses; it’s past six in the morning, and after unlocking the younger’s phone and checking his alarms, he realizes that his ex-husband has just a little over four hours until he has to wake up to meet Hansol.

Fucking fantastic.

The Korean man releases a world-weary sigh, runs a hand through his wet hair, and gives himself a mental pep talk before getting to work.

 

 

As soon as he starts to regain consciousness, Yuta can tell that something’s _wrong_. He blindly reaches out to turn off his phone’s obnoxiously sounding alarm before forcing himself to sit up at a languid pace. 

_What time did he return to the hotel last night?_

_Why is he so warm?_

_What time is it right now, anyway?_

The Japanese man blearily blinks open his eyes... and regrets the decision immediately.

Now wide awake and _internally freaking the fuck out_ , the former model scans his surroundings disbelievingly; he's beyond _horrified_ by what he sees.

This is _not_ the reality he wanted.

Fate must be playing some cruel, cruel joke on him.

He’s situated in the guest bedroom of the house that used to be half his, dressed in some of his ex-husband’s warm, baggy house clothes. On the bedside table lay his charging phone, last night’s outfit and accessories in an organized pile, and a tray of cold breakfast. He then spots a folded note next to some napkins, and a sense of _bitter deja vu_ stabs into him like a hot, jagged knife.

Yuta wastes no time in grabbing the note and scanning through its contents, already expecting the worst.

Except... the worst doesn’t come. Actually, the note is rather innocuous. Apparently Taeyong’s already left for the day, but he’s welcome to stay for as long as he wants. Breakfast is on the table, his laundry is done, the number for the taxi service is conveniently listed, as well...

There’s just one odd section that jumps out to him. ‘“Look under your pillow. After much deliberation, I decided to get you a little something, though you don’t have to accept it if you’re uncomfortable doing so. Think of it as a purely platonic gift, not a payment. Never a payment...”’ the Japanese man rereads aloud quizzically. “What the hell?”

So Yuta turns around and lifts the pillow. A black velvet jewelry box is what he finds underneath, and his heart skips a beat before it starts to beat at a renewed, quicker, almost _violent_ tempo. Stunned into silence and feeling slightly lightheaded, he picks up the box and opens it.

There are earrings inside, _breathtaking_ ones at that. Matching, intricate platinum spirals lead to dangling stars embedded with diamonds. They’re just his type, and they sparkle so _exquisitely_ in the sunlight peeking through the blinds, and he _likes_ them. _God, he really, really likes them and wants them._ How could he not? But when he thinks about the circumstances in which they’re being offered...

Yuta whimpers and clutches the box tightly, conflicted. _“Damn it, Taeyong...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to make this chapter about all three couples, but it was already running pretty long, so JaeYong and YuSol will appear in the next chapter instead. I... I really miss YuSol. :( On a side note, JaeYong's all nice and good, yeah, but there's been TaeTen interactions lately. Royal OTPs ftw~
> 
> Random, but are you guys following Hansol on The Unit? I really hope he makes it in~ I'd love to see him work with U-KISS Jun and the HOTSHOT boys. *O* Oh, and let's support Jonghyun's new songs, NCT's comeback, etc. as well. <3

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't proofread this, so yeah. It trash. *shrugs*  
> Ngl the reason this fic took me so long was because I didn't know how to write the first chapter. I decided to start slow just to play it safe, but I think it'll be a lot easier to write now that I've crossed this hurdle? ^^"


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